


The flesh of our fears

by simofthewind



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt and not much comfort, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Sorry for hurting Jaskier but it's my favourite sport
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:48:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simofthewind/pseuds/simofthewind
Summary: "The old tapestries were as threatening as he remembered against the cold stone walls. Even the fire in the hearth wasn’t able to lift the chill that was living in his bones."What is a nightmare and what is reality, where does the truth lie?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 39





	The flesh of our fears

There was a tall man standing in a dark green cloak in front of him, his wrinkled thin hands covered with jewels clasped at his back. His elegant shoulders were slightly slumped by the age. There was a dark aura around him as if light itself was too weak or too afraid to exist near the silent silhouette.

The old tapestries were as threatening as he remembered against the cold stone walls. Even the fire in the hearth wasn’t able to lift the chill that was living in his bones. 

His hands tightened on the coarse fur covering the foot of the too huge bed. He knew those rooms. He knew this judgemental back. What was he doing here. Could grief really make him desperate enough, mad enough to go back there ? 

"Well, Julian. What a surprise to find you here. I hope you’ll not find your rooms too… luxurious after your years on the road with this… witcher". Witcher. It was just a word. The right word. Knight, blacksmith, farmer, merchant, baker. Witcher. Driping with disdain like rotten honey. The man taped his ringed fingers against each other and paced slowly across the room, tutting with disaproval, the metallic tap tap bumping against the high celling to resonate hollowly in the room. His own hands fisted in the fur were adorning the same rings and they were squizzing and burning his skin.

"Was life as a bard not fulfilling enough ? But you weren't just a bard right ? You were this monster’s bard. At least he knew what he signed for… A bard, really" and if a word could be more filled with hatred and disdain then Witcher, it really was this one. A cruel laugh passed the old man pale lips "How many of your paramours left you already after you told them that you had rejected your inheritance and estate to study and become less than a jester ? I can't remember… Was it four ? Or five ? They promised you eternal love and idiot that you were you believed them. How naive you were, thinking that ladies could ever want someone like you or that your little fancy boy whims could interest anyone… Your only asset is your money Julian. Did he know about your wealth ? He did not, right ? I recognize you well there, Julian". 

He wanted to press his hands against his ears to shut the world off but the fur had swallowed them and held him captive and frozen there . "Father…". "That mutant lives a life harder then anyone and where you could help with the only thing that you're worth for, a bit of money, you choose not. Always the most egoist of the lot you are. Is it why he left you ? He saw your true face?". "He never knew, he never knew, Father, please…" "Look at your stupid face Julian… Oooh did he grow bored of you and your ever running mouth then? I wouldn't blame that man. I couldn't wish your company to my worst ennemy… And the gods know how I despise his kind. That butcher must be very patient indeed for letting you burden him for twenty years."  
"You’re very quiet Julian… did you swallow your own tongue? Oh. Oh no. Oh I know now... Tell me, Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, did he left you before or after you spread your legs for him ? ». 

His heart missed a beat. 

« That’s why he tolerated you for so long by his side… you were whoring yourself. But even your little hole wasn't enough to compensate your annoying self in the end, is that it ? »

There were now silent tears of rage and shame rolling down his cheeks now, gathering at his chin as his voice wobbled "I didn't spread my legs for anyone…"

"You ? You didn't ? Let me laugh Julian, your rear has saw more dicks than there’s fleas on a street dog. The diseases someone could caught there". "Father stop, please, stop,…" "You beg now ? You were more proud than that younger. You’re a little slut Julian, that’s what you are". "Poor man, he didn't get nor your money nor your body… How did he put up with you is beyond me..."

"He had my music ! He liked my songs, they were helping him ! He was famous thanks to me and people were kinder to him for that. His life was easier and …" 

"He didn't need them, stupid boy. Witcher are heartless machine made to kill monsters. They're ripped from their humanity when they enter their damned schools. Why would he care about what people say, music or little you".

"He cared. Geralt cares deeply, he’s a good man, he’s kind and just. He tries his best in everything he does. He takes care of people and of animals. No one that loves animals so dearly can be bad. We help each other, I love him and he loves me too, we’re friends. We’re friends, Father, we’re friends…"

" But you don't have friends, Julian" the man turned sharply towards him, his long robe swirling after him, his face contorted by hatred. "You don't have friends, no one loves you, you’re nothing on this planet. You’re no one. You’re loud, you’re a coward and a liar, you’re talentless, you bring nothing but trouble. People tolerate you in hope you’ll be gone soon enough, they mock you and pity you. You’re no one, do you hear me. You don't exist, you’re a thorn in my side. If life could give me one blessing,…"

"Stop! Stop, shut up, shut up!". He was now splayed in the bed, iron shackles bruising his wrists everytime he tossed and turned to free himself in vain. His father was bend over him taking off his rings one by one, one by one making them shine in the frigid sun entering the room before slipping them on his own hands. With each ring off he could see his body turning paler and paler, almost transparent, and his vision blurring. "You can’t take them, they’re mine, they’re mine. I don’t care what you think of me, Geralt cares about me, you can’t take that from me, you can’t take them, he gifted it to me, give it back, give it back, stop it. Father, stop it, please, you’re hurting me, please, Geralt likes me, we’re friends, I know we are. Stop it, stop it, you’re hurting me, please Father, please,... Geralt, Geralt !" 

He woke with a start, eyes screwed shut on the night. His heart was beating frantically, each beat sending sharp spikes between his aching ribs. The cold wind was singing in the branches where they set their camp. His face was damp with tears, his hands were clasped around sharp pine needles, his weight was crushing his rings into his flesh. He must have rolled on his stomach during his sleep… It was just a nightmare, just a nightmare. He turned awkwardly on his side and stayed there for a long moment, eyes still tightly closed, murmuring to himself that everything was alright. Lettenhove was far, far away from him.

"One blessing, one blessing…" were still chanting quietly the earth and the wind… He wanted to bury his face in Geralt’s familiar chest and rest there, safe from the night until dawn. His heart still a bit mad, he tried to shuffle sleepily closer to Geralt’s soothing warmth. He must have rolled far from the witcher as he found nothing but cold void… Mumbling indistinctly he extended his arm towards his compagnion and opened his eyes groggily to peer at his surroundings.

Dawn was already here, pale and gloomy in the frosty light. His meager fire had died during the night. His luth was set behind him. Only two rings were still decorating his hands, the others exchanged against food and shelters, his fingers unable to touch the once loved strings of his instrument. He was alone. 

No warmth, no friend, just one blessing and the frail silhouette of a man curling tighter around himself in the shadow of a mountain.

**Author's Note:**

> Third work I've ever (fully) wrote! The idea sprouts in the middle of a sunny afternoon and wouldn't let me go...
> 
> Comments are gems treasured for the centuries to come...  
> Come say hi on [Tumblr!](https://simeramise.tumblr.com/)


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